A Zombie For Mother Superior
by Erzsebeth Bathory
Summary: Mother Superior suspects something's different about John Marston as they seek refuge in a land dominated by the walking dead.


**Disclaimer:** _Red Dead Redemption Undead Nightmare _is copyright © Rockstar Games and all others associated with legal rights. This story takes place after the main storyline has been completed.

* * *

"A Zombie For Mother Superior"

* * *

Mother Superior could only watch helpless on horseback as Las Hermanas, her home for more years than she cared to admit, fell to the undead. Wave after wave of the unholy creatures poured through the broken barriers of what used to be a peaceful and loving sanctuary. Blood curdling screams along with intense, uncontrollable fires consumed the vast adobe structure.

"God, please grant those dying souls quick passage into your eternal kingdom," Mother Superior whispered grimly, mourning those she cared about, as she turned and studied her companion.

John Marston saved her life. If he hadn't come along, she surely would have ended up as one of those abominations walking around with the never ending hunger for human flesh.

"Let's go," the former outlaw instructed as he steered his charger (she wasn't sure what kind of creature he was riding on was, but it was no horse she'd ever seen before) along one of the many dirt trails leading away from the fallen settlement.

Mother Superior reached behind her back. Her toughened fingertips brushed against the stock of her trusty old rifle before she followed John without hesitation.

* * *

"One of the workers became infected," Mother Superior began as she and John rode side by side through the blanket of supernatural mist which stretched across as far as the eye could see. The horses galloped effortlessly, kicking up dirt as they trekked. It was an even pace which kept them at a safe distance from immediate threats. "He seemed normal enough and he said nothing of being injured, but it was mostly likely due to the fear of being killed. I had reservations about him but I couldn't confront him in time because he quickly changed into of _**them**__._ Before I knew it, over half of the people within Las Hermanas became infected. I had to empty half of my bullets against my own sisters."

She gently stroked her mare's head. "I tried to remember what you told me: claim self-defense. But seeing many of the sisters unwilling to cause harm against anyone, to not fight for their lives in fear of killing, was very disheartening considering the undead can no longer comprehend what is right and what is wrong. Obviously the sisters learned of this too late. At this point, self-defense was the only way I kept myself from going mad."

John adjusted the gloves on his hands. "What would you have done if I hadn't stopped by?"

Mother Superior cast a fleeting look at her bleak surroundings. Undead wolves aggressively tried to pursue them but could not match the galloping speeds of the horses and they gave up quickly. It was never the less disheartening for her to witness. "I suppose I would have died fighting."

John veered them along a tight bend in the road. The old woman tightened her hold over her reins when John started speaking. "You're quite a woman, Mother Superior. I figured from the first moment I saw you handlin' that monster tryin' to squeeze the life out of you. You gave it a nice shotgun blast to the face. It's like you've been born with a natural trigger finger. How long have you been usin' a gun before you decided to devote your life to God?"

In spite of her uneasiness, Mother Superior lips pressed together into a knowing smirk. "That's another story for another time, dear boy."

"Oh yeah?"

"There doesn't seem to be too many places left that are considered safe, Señor Marston. The peace we had was only temporary. Without warning, the Devil decided to wage war once more against humanity. The bodies of those who found peace are forced to walk the earth once more."

She thought she heard John mumble something but it was too indistinct for her to understand. She gazed out at the dark outline of the Perdido mountain ranges. Dawn was hours away, but not even the sunlight could banish the nightmare of the walking dead.

* * *

They found safe haven in the form of a rooftop in Agave Viejo, the ex-guerilla base of revolutionist-turned-leader (later turned tyrant) Abraham Reyes. There was a small pocket of survivors scattered throughout the settlement. They were extremely grateful to see Mother Superior when she first arrived as they flocked to her side as soon as she stepped down from her horse. They begged for her to pray for them and asked her to ask God to grant them salvation from the disaster which threatened to drive them to extinction. Before she could do anything, the group dispersed upon the sight of rapidly approaching undead. Everybody retreated to higher ground - all but John Marston. He decided to remain mounted on his horse when the monsters arrived. People thought he was mad to stay put yet nobody tried to argue with him. Instead Mother Superior and the survivors assisted him from their higher vantage points as John weaved through the uncontrollable undead like a man possessed. His aim was true as he blasted the heads off of the rotting monsters and drove the end of his torch into the skulls of the others without hesitation. It didn't take long before the settlement was temporarily safe once more.

John was perched against a small wooden crate with his head tilted back. His hat was covering much of his face. Mother Superior was seated across from him, resting on her heels, with a small cloth sack filled with provisions gifted by the people. John declined the food and water she offered him because he insisted she regain her strength. Long hours passed since the fall of the convent and she hadn't see him eat, drink, sleep, nor excuse himself for the call of nature. She herself was too tired to sleep after everything she'd been through. And though she was grateful for John's actions, she couldn't help but think something was terribly off.

At long last, she could no longer hide the nagging thoughts that overwhelmed her. "There's something different about you, Señor Marston."

"Is that so, Mother Superior?" The former bandit's remark was casual sounding enough but there was the allusion of apprehension that she did not miss.

Using a cloth to polish the barrel of her rifle, she took her time cleaning when she said, "From the moment you pulled me away from those creatures back at Las Hermanas, I knew something was different. It was like you were fighting as if you could not be killed. You were reckless, daring those undead monsters to get close." She hummed a gentle hymn that occupied the stillness of the night. Once finished, she set aside the cloth and rested her weapon across her lap. With her free hand she brushed some invisible dirt from one of her sleeves. "I won't make the same mistake twice, señor. Forgive me for being cautious. Let me see your face."

It didn't appear as if John heard a word she'd said. Never the less, he eventually leaned over as he raised the brim of his hat with his thumb. Mother Superior bent forward and at first, he looked exactly the same as he had the first time she met him: when he arrived at Las Hermanas for the first time and offered a generous donation to the convent. She hadn't expected someone like him to give a damn (Lord forgive her language, even in her own thoughts) about a righteous cause. He didn't look like someone who would bother with anybody but himself. Yet she knew that appearances could be deceiving: a double-edged sword. Answers from God came in all different forms and in the first case, John sauntered up on horseback almost a lifetime ago and pressed a wad of bills into her hands. Later on, he would come back and see her fighting against an undead man and give aid to her and her fellow sisters.

She blinked, and without warning, in her inner eye, she found herself staring at a rotting corpse. John's rugged and scarred face was sunken in, his flesh grayish-green in color, and his nose was missing with only a ghastly hole in its place. His lips were gone, now nothing more than fleshly, red and black gums with broken yellow teeth all too bare. He only had one eye and it was milk white, pupil-less. His hair was stringy and some of it was sticking to patches of dried scalp, ready to fall off. His clothes were in a state of decomposition; the evidence of bullet holes and dried blood were all too apparent.

One hand flew to her rosary and she recoiled with shock as her other hand grabbed a hold of her rifle. A short gasp escaping her lips and she blinked again. This time she saw John, living and breathing John, watching her. Instead of being surprised at her reaction he simply sat back, reached into his vest pocket, and produced a familiar bottle filled with a blue liquid.

"I figured _this _had something to do with what I am now," John began cryptically. "Took me a while to realize it. This is the same water you blessed, the one you gave me before I went and cleaned out the Sepulcro graveyard."

"Is that so…?" Her voice trailed off as she analyzed the man seated before her, slowly allowing her body to relax. Could it be possible? A man who is undead but appear to be alive and functioning just as well as a normal human? Either there was a deal with the Devil made, or God truly worked in mysterious ways.

"I was buried with this after I died," John explained as he studied the sacred water with his own bemusement. "I dunno why but I guess my family thought it might do me some good."

He chuckled darkly as he put the bottle away. Mother Superior released her hold over her rosary and she tenderly asked, "Where is your family?"

"Lord only knows." The sadness in his voice was unmistakable. "When I came to, my house was all boarded up just like when this nightmare all started the first time. I just hope they were able to escape the second time around."

"Any clues to their whereabouts?"

John suddenly snapped, "Shit, I can barely keep my own thoughts coherent! It's enough of a struggle to focus on what I'm gonna say before I say it. While I might make sense to you, it's all comin' out soundin' like garbage to me. I look at my own reflection in the water or in a mirror and I see a goddamn freak. The only thing that separates me from _them _is that I don't wanna chomp on anybody's bones!"

His behavior took a cutting, almost violent turn as he abruptly got up from his seat, knocking over the crate, and wandered over to the edge of the roof but not before spitting out a few choice curse words. Never the less, Mother Superior gathered herself after putting aside her weapon and went to John's side.

"You're not like _**them**_," she maintained as she placed a hand upon his upper arm. She expected him to pull away but was grateful when he remained still. "You have your _humanity, _Señor Marston. I won't ask how you initially perished; when you passed away, you must have had so much love for your family, that when you rose from your grave it was the _love _that allowed you to keep not only the illusion of a genuine human but your very soul."

"The bottle, don't forget," John added solemnly as he gazed down and studied nothing in particular below. "The water you blessed? It's probably another reason why I'm here today."

"Such miracles are not mine alone to make."

"May it be you or God or both of you…" He paused thoughtfully before he continued on. "Y'know, I was never a religious man. All I know is that somethin' did this to bring me back. Whatever that reason may be, I know I ain't never gonna rest 'til I find my family. Once I know they're okay then maybe I don't gotta be like this anymore."

"Hope_ will _be found, Señor Marston!"

John shook his as he turned and looked down at Mother Superior. "Not hope," he corrected, "but a mask. It was the mask that was the cause of all of this."

She frowned some. "Mask? What mask do you speak of?"

Her questions went unanswered as she watched John briskly pull away and walk over to the ladder leading down to ground level. "Señor Marston, where do you think you're going?"

"Sister, you need to stay here and keep hope alive for these people," John instructed as his boots touched the dirt ground. Tipping his head back so he could see her face, he added, "I'm gonna head over to that damn cave in Escalera to see if I can find any clues."

"In Escalera? Wait, señor!"

John lingered as the old woman climbed down the ladder. By then, the mysterious beast John traveled upon silently appeared at his side. The unmistakable chill of death surrounded the horse and the desperado didn't seem bothered by it one bit. At this point Mother Superior decided to keep a respectable distance between herself and the two undead.

Making some motions with her hands, she said, "I will pray to God and ask him to grant you strength. With Him on your side, looking out for you, there is no task you cannot do."

John bowed his head. "I left a couple of Holy Waters up on the roof. Maybe while I'm gone you can keep fiddlin' with the water and see if you can work some more wonders. Hell, if that stuff can bring a bastard like myself back to life, maybe it'll do some poor souls some good."

He effortlessly mounted his horse and started to trot off but after just a few moments, he came to a halt. Looking over his shoulder, he called out to her. "Can you do me a favor, Mother Superior?"

Mother Superior, who was about to go back up on the roof, craned her neck to John's direction. "What is it?"

John turned his horse around so that he was able to face her. The early morning sun was at last beginning to rise and its bright rays cast an outline of John's body. She could see his decomposing form all too clearly yet his compassion, his love for his family, soon took over her vision.

"Say a prayer for my family, will ya? Their names are Abigail and Jack Marston."

"Indeed, Señor Marston, I shall." Mother Superior nodded once and with that, the former outlaw took his leave. John kicked the sides of his undead beast and was soon galloping away from the community and into the desert landscape.

Once he disappeared, the old nun laughed softly as she began to climb up the ladder.

"I have no doubt I shall see you again, John Marston. Alive or undead, you are quite the hell raiser."


End file.
